


Touch

by Rueitae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings Realization, Gen, I guess???, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, Minor Ezor/Zethrid (Voltron), Near Death, Poisoning, Possession, Protective Voltron Lions, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron), Sadism, Some Humor, Torture, True Love's Kiss, Unrequited Allurance, Voltron Lion to Paladin Psychic Bond, bit of trope inversion there, i suppose in future situations it could be bad but, its a good possession though, kind of, nobody dies in this fic i should make that clear, not too graphic though, nothing more than the usual, specifically Red, this was supposed to be a bit darker but the fic wrote itself differently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/pseuds/Rueitae
Summary: "Lance? What are you doing?"A fair question, he must look silly with his ear up against the wall like this. "I'm feeling for a secret passage."He can almost feel the eye roll she gives him. "You've seen too many movies, Lance. There is no secret passage," she says dully.Lance snorts. He knows that. The Galra are known for practicality, and adding a secret passage on a battlecruiser like this one to anything resembling a prison cell does not fit Zarkon's M.O. at all. Still, if so many movies made use of them - why wouldn't there be some in real life?Besides, he and Pidge both could use a smile right now. Maybe a better idea will come when they're loose with a good laugh."Oh really?" he challenges. "Then how do you explain this?"~~~~~AU of S7E3 in which Lance and Pidge are in a separate cell from the rest of the team.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74
Collections: Lance Goes Boom





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the Lance Goes Boom reverse bang! 
> 
> Find Fenix's outstanding art that I wrote this piece for on [Tumblr](https://fenixseraph.tumblr.com/post/617699671578673152/canon-divergent-plance-au-based-on-the-events-of) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FenixSeraph/status/1259333531102257153)!

Pidge looks so  _ calm _ .

Lance can’t stop looking at her.

She’s perfected her poker face. Somehow her eyes manage that glossed-over look, mouth a thin, even line that feigns disinterest. Not once does she spare a knowing or worried glance his way that would give him - or their enemy - a clue to what she is thinking. Yet Lance has  both known her and fought at her side long enough to recognize the sharp glint in her pupils - a face that hides the fact that her mind is hard at work. 

And perhaps that is what sets Lance at ease, even though he can feel the barrel of the blaster at his back, prodding him forward while his arms become  increasingly sore the longer his wrists are handcuffed in front of him. Pidge  _ is _ working on a solution. Once they figure out who these pirates are, why they’ve been captured - what was with their advanced tech - then they can find the others, escape, and get back on the road to Earth. 

Home. 

Thoughts of his family fill the time they walk down the repetitive corridors of the Galra battlecruiser. How much have his niece and nephew grown in his absence. Did Rachel ever decide on a college major? Was Luis lifeguarding at the beach still? It’s depressing to think that even though  he’d attended Galaxy Garrison Southwest Base so he could see Veronica more often, he probably missed her graduation from the Officers Academy.  He’d been looking forward to being at the ceremony, sitting with the other cadets and congratulating her with a salute - like a proper fighter pilot-in-training - but now there was no chance of seeing his sister’s accomplishment. However much time had passed on Earth, she’d already be an officer and fully trained as an analyst. 

And he’d still get Mom’s celebratory feast at the end of it. A delighted hum escapes his lips just  _ thinking _ about those garlic knots, drool slipping out of his mouth for just a moment before he slurps it back. 

A jagged edge slams into his lower back, squeezing his undersuit painfully against his skin. The force sets him off balance so quickly he can’t stop the floor from having a date with his face. 

He catches a sharp gasp of horror as his skin drags and pinches on the cold metal floor, and by the time the guard hauls him up by the scruff of his neck, Pidge’s rage is focused on their captors. 

“What the quiznack was that for?” she demands. 

Lance’s guard, an older alien with features that tickle his memory, simply glares. They’d seen someone like him before, but he would have definitely remembered a planet full of these people. The long ribbon-like appendage attached to his head twitches in agitation, the same as Lance feels with the memory at the tip of his tongue.

“You’re a little too happy for my tastes, being prisoners and all,” he says, directing his ire to Lance. “You know something we don’t?”

The words are out of Lance’s mouth before he can think about it, because pettiness and distraction are things he can do and do  _ well  _ in situations like these. “That your face is ugly?” he says with a pleased smirk. 

He might have seen a left hook coming, but the appendage on the alien’s head whipping out and slapping him across the face he does  _ not _ . And it hurts, slamming him into the wall with a force he did not expect from such a wispy looking limb, pain so overwhelming that white clouds his vision and he can’t feel his face at all. 

So, in proper ‘don’t let the bad guys know how much they really hurt you’ fashion, Lance groans and simply says, “Ow.”

“Don’t hurt him too much, then you’ll have to carry him,” grumbles the other guard. That one is Galra. Though after working with the Blade of Marmora, Lance knows not all Galra are with Zarkon, it’s still strange to see more than one mixed in with a pirate crew and not a part of the Empire. 

His assailant clicks the inside of his mouth. “Let’s just put them in here. That’s plenty away from the others, right? It’s got a better lock than the cells anyway.”

The Galra guard rumbles in mild displeasure. “Fine, but you’re filling out the occupancy report.”

The sound of the lock is dull, like typing on the keyboard on his grandmother’s early twenty-first century laptop. In his dazed state, Lance wonders if they’ve always sounded like this or if this is yet another technological advancement that occurred during their absence.

(He didn’t know what an unlocking sounded like anyway, despite their many missions to free prisoners on Galra bases - he usually fried the locks with his bayard to open them. Pidge always had other things to hack for him as opposed to opening cell doors, like disabling the sentries shooting at him.)

Hands rough around his shoulders jerk Lance from his spot on the floor. A sharp pain shoots across the top of his head and Lance sees white before he realizes he’s face down on the floor again. 

“I can walk!” Pidge hisses indignantly. She yelps and half a tick later Lance has the air knocked out of him as Pidge’s small, boney frame - hard armor and all - lands on his back. 

The door slams shut followed by the resounding click of the lock.

Pidge rolls off his back quickly, even though it’s hardly her weight that’s the problem, Lance wheezes out, still recovering from the initial impact.

“Lance!” Pidge says desperately - her face awfully close in front of his own. “Are you okay?”

“I think… I’ll live,” he exhales. Taking a few long, deep breaths he feels much better already. He pushes himself up and rolls onto his back, breathing much easier. Now to convince Pidge, make her feel at ease that he’ll be fine because he  _ will _ be and he needs her brain working on their escape plan and not worried about him. “I’ve been roughed up much worse. I mean, I survived a blast from a bomb, yeah?” he finishes with a grin.

Pidge… does not look convinced.

She sits on her knees, body slouched and cuffed hands resting on her lap as she stares blankly in his direction, mind clearly elsewhere. She isn’t smiling, but he can’t say she frowns either. 

So much for keeping the both of them in good spirits. His own mood drops as quickly as his smile does, the back of his head hitting the floor. "Now what?"

"I guess we wait." Pidge says calmly. She shuffles over to the wall, sliding down to her bum and lifting her knees to her chest, resting her cuffs on top of them.

Lance sits up, raising an eyebrow. "You have a plan?"

"To escape?” Pidge scowls. “Not exactly. I can't access the outside lock from here. We're stuck."

Now Lance isn't sure he likes Pidge's calm. They're separated from the others. They don't even know who or why they've been captured. Now that he isn't walking - moving in any way - Lance feels antsy, agitated. Waiting has never been his strong suit and he's suddenly overcome with the explicit need to do  _ something _ .

He can feel Pidge's eyes on him as he stands. If she can't hack her way out of this, it’s up to him to figure out an alternative.

"Lance? What are you doing?"

A fair question, he must look silly with his ear up against the wall like this. "I'm feeling for a secret passage."

He can almost feel the eye roll she gives him. "You've seen too many movies, Lance. There is no secret passage," she says dully.

Lance snorts. He knows that. The Galra are known for practicality, and adding a secret passage on a battlecruiser like this one to anything resembling a prison cell does not fit Zarkon's M.O. at  _ all _ . Still, if so many movies made use of them - why wouldn't there be some in real life?

Besides, he and Pidge both could use a smile right now. Maybe a better idea will come when they're loose with a good laugh.

"Oh really?" he challenges. "Then how do you explain this?"

He backs up, and against his better judgement, kicks the wall as hard as he can.

Tickling pain shoots up from the nerves on the bottom of his foot, up his leg, and through the rest of his body. Frozen in place, a squealing wheeze escapes his lips, brain grasping for figurative straws. Like a lump of coal, he falls hard onto the floor. Unmoving on his side, as if his body were asleep though his eyes are wide open.

Pidge groans and her whole body deflates. "Look, there's two of us. If the guards don't suspect us, maybe we can jump one fast enough to take his weapon. So… don't hurt yourself in the meantime, okay?"

Her soft, wry smile Lance takes as a win, even if she isn't on the floor laughing. It makes his heart light with a pleased grin wide across his face that he can at least get a positive reaction out of her. "That's sweet of you, Pidge. I knew you liked me."

The sharp gasp that comes from her mouth and the speed with which her face turns a bright red surprises him. "I don't!" she exclaims. "I mean, I  _ do _ like you, but as a fri-tea-frien-teammate!"

Lance raises an eyebrow, squinting skeptically. He’s spent years trying to unlock how Pidge thinks and while she tends to babble, sticking his foot in his mouth is usually  _ his _ thing. "Yeah, we have been ever since our days at the Galaxy Garrison. And don't you dare think otherwise,” he presses, pointing in her direction to drive his words home. “We were  _ literally _ on the same simulator team and despite your attempts to ditch me and Hunk, we were definitely friends."

It isn't often Pidge is left speechless, so Lance soaks in the display of her mouth and eyes wide open with some semblance of pride. To get a rise out of Pidge, methodical and focused and usually-the-one-with-the-pun Pidge, had to be his biggest win in capturing her friendship since they came to space.

This was preferable to her rage leading up to the trade for her father. Never does he want to see her that angry ever again.

"Of course," she finally  says with conviction . Then much more softly and introspectively than he’s used to hearing from her, "Since the Garrison..."

The mood turns cold and Lance  chews on the inside of his lip . He feels as if he's missing something important between the lines, but Pidge doesn't look as if she wants to divulge.

Doboshes pass. The longer they wait in companionable silence, the occasional clank of boots and rustling of blasters from the hallway as their only background noise, the more the weight of the situation  _ really _ falls down on him. It's always been do or die for them, from the very first harrowing hours escaping Earth to fooling Sendak. Somewhere between then and now, sometime after their first big win over Zarkon, with the Blade of Marmora at their back and the Coalition coming together in greater numbers than ever, Lance at least had started to feel  _ safe _ . Sure, it was still an uphill battle and their business was still fighting a war to free the universe from tyranny, but... it wasn't  _ just  _ seven people, five Lions, and a Castle-ship anymore. There was a buffer, even if Voltron was still on the front lines, they were part of a strong team and  _ mostly _ knew what they were doing. 

No one answered communications after they escaped the Rift. Not the Coalition, nor the Blade of Marmora, not even Earth.

They were alone again. Just a handful of people, five Lions that weren't functioning, and a few pets. And now they were all locked up with no plan of escape and no information, completely at the mercy of whoever is in command of this ship.

They need to get out of here. The team being separated like this makes him anxious. Are they separated in twos like he and Pidge are? There's Shiro and Keith, Krolia and Romelle, Hunk and Allura, Coran and the animals. 

A brief clip of an image before they were all separated races across his mind , head jerking up in realization. 

“Pidge, Coran wasn’t with us,” he says excitedly. “He could totally be planning our escape right now!” 

Rather than backing him up, she stands and places an ear to the wall and taps in earnest. “I will help you find that passage. We’re doomed otherwise.”

“What?” Lance asks incredulously. “No, no way. He’s always telling us about his time in Altean special ops! He’s got to have something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, but even if those stories were true, which I kinda doubt ‘cause he’s  _ always _ embellishing stuff, that’s ten-thousand plus years ago,” Pidge says, squashing the rest of Lance’s hopes as she continues to tap, making her way across the wall. “This is the guy who was convinced he wasn’t old enough to have the slipperies?”

“So… you don’t think Altea had molten rock falling like rain?”

“I’ve done a lot of studying about Altean culture to tweak the translation in my code,” Pidge replies dully, turning and lightly hitting her head back against the wall. “I don’t think so.”

The sting of betrayal only lasts but a moment in favor of the newest tidbit of information he  _ didn’t _ know about Pidge. “Wait, you’ve been studying Altean culture?”

Pidge shrugs nonchalantly as she lets her back slide down the wall before she sits on the floor. “Yeah. Coran’s got tons of data pads lying around and King Alfor’s entire laboratory. Plus,” she smiles fondly, “it’s kinda nice to see Allura happy talking about it.”

Lance’s stomach twists unpleasantly, gulping hard. Quiznak, what  _ Allura _ must be going through. Nothing awful had happened to her when she went into the Rift with Lotor, but the fallout... as much as he hated Lotor, Lance hates being right more, because now Allura is suffering. She's had no  _ time _ at all to come to terms with the betrayal.

Lance has had his fair share of heartbreaks, but  _ nothing _ like what Allura must be experiencing right now. He hopes whoever is with her thinks to offer comfort. As much as he wishes that person were him, a part of him doubts she’d want to hear sympathies from someone who wants her romantic affections.

"D-do you think Allura's okay?" he wonders out loud. She's still his friend and fellow Paladin, his concern for her well being will never change. 

Pidge stares at the far wall, lips forming a hard line, but her eyes betray her own worry. "Allura's stronger than any of us. She got us forming Voltron when it'd only been a day for her since losing her home planet."

The realization hurts far less than he ever imagined it would. After so many years - was it years? - of mildly hoping Allura would ever return his romantic affection all seemed so trivial in the moment. Here, captured by an unknown group, not knowing if she and the others were even safe? It eats at him that romance had consumed him so wholly in those early days. The only thing that matters now is that she is his friend and fellow Paladin. That was a bond he had with her that Lotor certainly  never had. Though that thought provides him no comfort either - one thought of her distraught face when they'd confronted her and Lotor upon their return from the quintessence field was enough. Lance doesn't wish her any more pain.

There was no way she'd return his feelings now, not after this. Lance has made his peace with that.

Lance bites his lip, staring at the far wall. "Yeah... " He tried to put himself in Allura's shoes a long time ago, if he’d slept for ten thousand years and woke up to find that his family was dead and Earth destroyed. He can't fathom it even now that he's seen the destruction of planets up close.

A chill runs down his spine as a deep, cruel voice creeps into the back of his mind, unsure if it is real or imagined. 

_ Perhaps I should pay a visit to your planet. _

He's aware his breathing intensifies, lungs struggling for air. It's been so long since he's dreamt of Earth in danger, secure in the knowledge of it being the backwater planet of the known universe. Not since first witnessing the power of Central Command and its ability to destroy plants. 

Sendak was  _ dead _ . Shiro shot him out into space. He couldn’t touch Earth from the grave. 

A grave they never saw. A body never confirmed dead.

They needed to get to Earth. For his peace of mind.

A mighty roar echoes across his mind, sending tremors down through his limbs. For the first time, Lance really feels the firepower and urgency of the Red Lion. Escape must happen now. Getting to Earth is priority number one.

"Lance! Lance, snap out of it!"

His breath hitches. Pidge's sharp command brings him back to his own reality and her hand on his shoulder anchors him. Almost as soon as he registers the stern expression mere inches from his face, it morphs into one of concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks with brows knit together. "You started panicking. I've never seen you do that."

Lance opens his mouth to reply, to assure her this is no worse than any other situation they've found themselves in, but a sudden jerk, as if there were an earthquake, steals his words and sends the both of them crashing to the floor.

The Red Lion roars in the same instant and Lance fears he is still in the nightmare of a bygone Earth. He reaches for Pidge, encasing her in his arms to make sure he isn't still dreaming, offering as much protection as he can with bound hands. He squeezes, burying his face in her hair while she latches onto his waist while they wait out the quake.

"Is someone attacking the pirates?" Pidge gasps when it ceases, rolling onto her back. "Coran might actually have a plan?"

Lance rolls off of her, making his breathing slow and deliberate to make up for his racing heart. "It's not Coran. It's Red. He's trying to get us out of here like when he nearly destroyed the Blade of Marmora base!"

He winces as another roar and quake come in quick succession.

"Does Red  _ know _ the ship could come crashing down on top of us?" Pidge shrieks.

Lance wonders if he imagines Red huffing in annoyance when Pidge's words cross through his mind. The vague suggestion of the door opening flashes in his mind and despite there being no words, Lance has been flying the Lions for so long he gets it.

He scrambles to his feet. "See if Red's attacks got the door loose!"

"Okay, you really  _ have _ seen too many movies," Pidge says, though she springs to her own feet and follows on his heels.

Like a well oiled machine, Pidge takes one side of the door and Lance the other, backs against the wall and cuffs as a poor substitute for weapons at the ready. "On three," he says. "One. Two. Thre--"

Lance turns and swings… only to fall, arms flailing as the door opens without restriction. His face hits armor. Large, thick hands constrict his neck and his feet dangle off the floor. The wall slams against his back, knocking the breath out of him. When he opens his eyes to see his assailant, Lance forgets how to breathe back in.

Now he knows why their guard had seemed so familiar.

“Do you think he needs to speak to call off his Lion, Zethrid?” the familiar one says far too conversationally for Lance’s taste.

"Do it," Zethrid demands of him, snarling in warning. "Or I will cut your connection to it permanently."

Her hand squeezes at his neck and Lance has no doubt she will follow through. The Red Lion rages in his mind, much more pronounced than before, and shakes the ship once more with a well placed beam cannon. It won't be much longer before the structural integrity is destroyed. "I - I..." Lance can't speak, his head a swirling array of colors, Red's images of destruction flashing before his eyes.

“What’s the matter, Lion got your tongue?” Zethrid smirks. A fresh wave of pain ripples through his head as it hits the wall with terrible force. “Want a turn, Ezor?”

"Let him go! You'll kill him!" Pidge screams desperately. Her boots squeak against the metal floor, wanting to move forward but restrained.

A lackadaisical sigh from Ezor. "The small one is right. It's no fun to kill him. Yet."

Zethrid drops him. He inhales air greedily, finding it fresh even in this artificial environment. Ezor's words however, tell him they are not safe. 

Without so much as a warning, he's dragged by the leg and thrown across the room. "Hurry up then, tell the Lion to stop. We'll  _ all _ die if you don't."

"It's not that easy!" Pidge interjects from across the room. "The Lions have minds of their own! Leave him alone!"

Lance hears the sound of human fists pounding against armor a split second before Pidge’s scream pierces his ears.

"Obviously they aren't that smart if the red kitty is trying to kill us all," Ezor says. "Hurry up!"

Lance heaves himself up, just enough to have a wall for a backrest, catching his breath up with the beat of his pounding chest. Words escape him when he sees Pidge trapped in Ezor’s fifth limb, wrapped around her body and pinning her arms to her side. Her eyes are knit shut, biting her lip and clearly in pain, a tear in the arm of her suit with blood leaking out. The end of Ezor’s whip gently brushes against her face and neck, gripping him with a fear he’s never quite experienced before. 

He holds up his index finger. "One... one moment. I--" Lance is interrupted by the most intense shake yet. Lance falls to his side as Zethrid falls to the ground. Ezor keeps herself steady, her whip-like limb keeping a tight hold on Pidge.

Seeing Pidge held like this fills him with an unbridled rage that he can't place. As if in another time, another place, this scene played out differently.

"Eeeeeverything will be fine,” Ezor sings, before her tone takes a sinister and annoyed turn, “including Greenie here, if you tell Red to  _ stop destroying the ship _ ."

A loud smack takes Lance's eyes off Pidge and onto Zethrid for just a moment, to watch her crack her knuckles and pound her fists together in delight. "Maybe Red needs a little motivation. Would be a shame if its Paladin lost a limb or two."

"I-I'm trying!" Lance gasps.  _ Come on Red, please stop, you're gonna get us all killed! _ he begs mentally. Another shake comes. Quiznak. Red wasn't going to stop.

The very  _ sharp _ end of Ezor's deadly ribbon creeps closer and closer to Pidge’s neck and Lance sucks in a breath. Under no circumstances can he let Pidge die. He needs to go back to Earth with her so they can properly play Killbot Phantasm and try his mom's peanut butter cookie recipe and eat garlic knots on the beach after they make a tribute to the Castle in the sand and hold a proper goodbye when the tide takes it.

Lance can't imagine a future in which Pidge does not feature prominently.

Words leave his lips before he can think. "Don't yo--!" he yells, standing up with more speed than he ever thought possible. Another quake takes his feet and words from under him.

"Lance, talk to Red! We'll be fine!" Pidge encourages. Her eyes dart to Ezor’s natural weapon, her breathing becoming more rapid.

The evil grin that Ezor shows does not sit well with him. The point at the end of her limb gleams - a stinger. Pidge stiffens and gulps as it passes dangerously close to her throat. If bright colors on aliens mean anything like bright colors of animals in the oceans and jungles of Earth... it's poisonous too.

_ Please _ , he begs of Red,  _ save Pidge. Get her out of harm’s way! _

The shaking stops.

A warmth fills the blood running through his veins. Power. Speed. Accuracy. The concepts run through his mind like second nature. As if having an out of body experience, he's still in the prison cell, watching their captors stare at him in amazement, but a yellow filter through the whole of his vision also makes it seem like he's not there.

Pidge's jaw has dropped too. What's happened to him?

"Why are his eyes glowing?" Zethrid wonders, clearly on the verge of panic.

Ezor squeezes Pidge with her limb, who gasps at the constriction. "What is he doing?"

Lance growls before Pidge can answer, though she doesn't look like she has an explanation.

Lance doesn't think he has one either. All he has is Red in his mind, telling him exactly how to protect Pidge.

His body moves on its own. With strength he never realized he had, his arms rip a panel from the wall and with precision, sends it flying, knocking Ezor in the head and freeing Pidge, now wide eyed and sitting on the floor.

Zethrid roars in rage. "I'll kill you!" she screams, seconds before racing in his direction.

"Lance, no!" Pidge screams, scrambling to her feet.

With surprising speed he dodges Zethrid so clinically it would have made his gym teacher proud, no other thought than to keep himself and Pidge alive and to escape.

He takes Pidge's hand in his own and a shiver of strangeness overcomes him. He doesn't feel her warmth like he normally does. It is almost as if her hand is slipping off something metallic in his.

The distracting thought is his downfall. He is tackled from behind, Pidge screaming his name.

"That was really not nice, and exactly what we asked you  _ not _ to do," Ezor says, slowly getting up.

"I think we should punish him,” Zethrid says eagerly as she leans her fist over him. “A good pummeling always beats some sense into people."

Lance braces for the hit, but it doesn't come.

"Wait, don't! If you hurt him, the Red Lion will just keep coming!" Pidge says desperately. He sees red when Pidge is standing between him and Ezor. "What do you even want with us?" she demands.

"Tell us what happened to Lotor." Zethrid demands without taking her eyes off of him.

"We--"

"Zethriiiiid. This isn't any fun," Ezor whines. "We can't have interrogation without torture."

"What?” Pidge squawks. “There's no need for that! I can just tell you what happened to him!"

"We have to make sure you're telling the truth,” Ezor continues as if it were obvious. “Can't embellish when you're in pain..."

"Don't you touch her!" Lance screams. He tries to lunge forward, but Zethrid prevents him from doing so. His yellow filter turns red.

Ezor shrugs. “Wasn’t planning on it. When interrogating, always go for the friend. Go ahead, Zethrid, I know how much you enjoy this part.”

Zethrid pulls his arms back over his head, her knee hitting his stomach and making him cough up bile. “Got a finger preference?”

The threat paralyzes him. If these kinds of confrontations are what they can expect on the way home, loss or even damage of any of his digits for a sniper means months or years of therapy that Lance and the team do not have. It renders him useless to the team by ground and great pain. 

Just the thought of being useless churns unpleasantly in his gut far more than the pressure Zethrid is exerting on it. 

“No?” Zethrid grins. With a sharp click, a dagger pops up from her gauntlet. “Let’s just see how many I can take off at once.” She takes her arm back. Lance finds himself growling in anger rather than squealing in despair. His body feels as if it moves free of his mind, twisting and turning as much as possible to avoid harm. 

“Lance!” 

Before he can register what exactly happens, Pidge is lying face down across his chest. Off his peripheral vision, her face is clenching in obvious pain.

Zethrid blessedly stands and gives them space, though it feels more as though she’s surveying her handywork. Lance sits up and cradles Pidge in his lap. He sucks in a sharp breath. In addition to the gash on her arm from before, Zethrid’s knife has created a tear in the side of her suit and an even deeper wound in her side. The only relief Lance has is that she still breathes, albeit with more difficulty than usual.

“Oops,” Ezor says, not bothering to even try and sound empathetic. “The more she gets hurt, the faster the poison is going to go through her system…”

“What?” Lance snarls, snapping his gaze to her. His mind is still whirling from the fact that she nearly got herself killed - might  _ still _ die - to save his  _ fingers _ . “Give her the antidote!” he demands.

“Where is Lotor?” Ezor asks with false congeniality. 

“Heal Pidge first!”

“Yeah, no, that’s not how this works.”

Pidge's breath hitches before Lance can answer properly. Her eyes are heavy, barely open as she mumbles, "He's in the quintessence field. We couldn't... we had to leave him there."

"Yeah, that's totally a lie," Ezor says boredly. "What really happened to him?"

In one heart wrenching moment, Ezor swings her limb like a lasso and takes Pidge cruelly from his arms. He reaches out to grab her back only to have his face plant firmly on the cold floor. 

Pidge screams and Lance looks up just in time as Ezor rips her claws into the skin on Pidge's neck. Blood drips down the side onto her black under-suit. "Leave her alone!" he growls - this time it comes out far more like the Red Lion than his own voice.

There aren't many times Pidge has ever been scared. She's been a rock through their journey, singularly focused on finding her family, laser focused on doing missions right, leaving no stone unturned, which in turn led to so many more missions to rescue others who needed it. She'd done it all with that same stern poker face that said she knew exactly what she was doing, confident in her abilities.

Right now as she breathes heavily, eyes locked onto the sharp and very poisonous barb at the end of Ezor’s limb, she looks every bit the scared, terrified teenager Lance feels sometimes too.

Lance doesn’t like that look. He longs for the determined eyes, the nerves of steel, because that let him know everything was okay and everything was normal. It stirs his stomach in knots. He wants to comfort her, remind her that her family is safe and to take her away from this awful place so she can go home and see them.

He just wants to hold her and screw the world.

"I'm telling the truth!” Pidge rasps. “A-any of us would tell you the same thing!"

"Conspiracy, eh? Oh I can't wait to break all of you, one by one. I wonder what they'll think when they see your lifeless body splayed out on the floor."

Lance roars, and the Red Lion roars in tandem as he takes off like a sprinter, intent on getting Pidge away from Ezor. The alarms blare as a strange background noise while the ship shakes violently. Pidge yelps as Ezor releases her and jumps to the side and goes down hard to the floor as Lance lunges and misses. 

"Ezor!" Zethrid cries in horror, the first inkling of concern from her mouth.

Lance continues his dive towards Pidge, sliding over top of her, caging and shielding her body with his own. He scoops her into his arms as he rests on his knees. He snarls. “What did you do to her?”

"I’m fine, Zethrid,” Ezor says with much more softness than Lance thought possible from her as Zethrid takes her hand and assists her in standing, before she growls and huffs in annoyance, glaring in his direction. “Too much too soon. Urgh. I was just getting  _ started _ . Come on, let's go check it out. She'll be dead by the time we get back and we'll continue with crazy man over there."

They leave in a hurry, slamming the door shut behind them.

Lance has eyes only for Pidge as she presses her gloved hands over the injury on her neck, blood flowing around her fingers. She stares at the floor as if it were the abyss, a stricken fear in her eyes. As he approaches, the red filters to yellow, and then back to the normal vivid colors he is used to.

Pidge raises her gaze to him and he can tell she forces herself to smile. "Your eyes are blue again," she says.

Lance raises an eyebrow. "Aren't they always?” he stammers. Pidge is hurt, that thing grazed her. “They're one of my best features," he tries to joke, though the tone turns less than enthusiastic. Something in his gut tells him they weren't blue just before.

"You looked possessed," she says. "I'm glad... you're back to being Lance right now though. I need a good Lance hug."

He doesn't hesitate, wrapping his arms around her, bringing her head to his chest. "We'll get you to the Lions and the healing pod. You're gonna be okay, Pidge."

"The poison's already working its way through my system." A sniffle. "It... it hurts. I'm scared. I don't want to -- "

"I'll get the door open, hang on. Coran's out there, right?” he rambles. “He's gotta find us and the others, we'll make it easy on him."

"I don't want you to leave me." Her hand squeezes his tightly. Tears flood her eyes. "I- I used to dream you would hold me like this."

"Pidge, I will hold you whenever and however long you want. All you have to do is ask. Even when we're back on Earth, back to our lives, I will always come and hold you."

"... then I'll ask for it every day. You'll have to live and work close to me."

Lance feels like there's more meaning behind those words than he ever expected. The longing way she asks for it, she doesn't really mean to be roommates or neighbors. It's something more than that.

"You really want to see me every day?" he laughs off, though humor is far from it. “Wouldn’t you get sick of me?”

Pidge is silent for a moment. She takes a deep, labored breath. "Sometimes, in my dreams, when I think about going back and seeing my family again and we're all reunited... you're all there too. But you especially. You're always in my kitchen and my living room and I keep wanting to say goodnight before going to my bedroom but you say that's silly we sleep in the same bed and then the dream ends.”

“Pidge…” 

“I know it’s silly,” she amends quickly, pointedly not looking his way. Every passing tic he supports more and more of her weight. “I didn’t know if I wanted to say anything bu-ut I wanted to know your reaction i-if…” 

She inhales laboriously and tears prick her eyes. “I’m selfish, I'm sorry. You don’t need this.”

Lance is terrified, sickness routing around in his empty stomach. “Pidge, you’re freaking me out. D-don’t apologize. I need you to get through this. Those dreams of yours… they sound really nice. I wouldn’t mind seeing if it works.”

It’s as truthful as Lance can get. He loves Pidge more than himself, and he admits he’s warming up to the idea of it in a romantic sense. The more he thinks about it the more he likes it, because they already spend all their time together either in her lab as she bounces ideas off of him or his room playing Killbot Phantasm… or at least they used to, before the Castle was destroyed. 

Her eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling even though he didn’t say exactly what she wanted to hear. “I’ll take that,” she says. “I’m sorry I might not be able to follow through.” The tears stream down her face. “I’m scared, Lance.”

“You saved me,” he says swiftly, over the sobs that she’s making an effort to hold back. If help does not come, he will not let them be the last thing she hears. He growls. He won’t let them be the last thing she  _ does _ either. 

The unexpected strength from before returns to him with Red’s approving roar. Lifting her into his arms, he carries her towards the door, the damage to the hallway thanks to the Red Lion’s rampage leaving it partially open. Lance grits his teeth. “Now I’m going to save you.”

His heart thrums with terror when she doesn’t respond. The grip on the wound on her neck has loosened and her eyes are glossed over. This isn’t one of the many times he’s carried her to bed after a long day of work. The situation continues to sober him, breath hitching as he runs encumbered down the hallway. “Don’t die, Pidge. We still have to get to Earth, your family is gonna want to see you. You can’t have found them only to get lost yourself. Shiro won’t be able to take it, Hunk will shatter, and Keith will go ballistic, Allura will blame herself, and I--” desperately any excuse for her to hang on runs through his mind, “I need to talk to you. This conversation  _ isn’t _ over, okay?”

Pidge does not respond. 

Pirates ignore them as they run in the opposite direction. Lance has eyes only for the hanger. Pidge’s bond to the Green Lion is the only thing he can think of that may help her. 

Lance trips, yelping as his feet run into fleshy lumps that squeak loudly in protest. He turns to make sure he takes the brunt of the fall, saving Pidge any additional pain. 

The space mice chirp, Plachu loud and indignant before Platt cuts it off. Chuchule sniffs the air in worry while Chulatt scampers over on top of Pidge, whiskers twitching in concern. Somehow, Lance is unsurprised they’d escaped and half suspects the alarms are their doing.

“She’s been poisoned,” Lance says, nearly in tears. How could he slip up like this? “Do you know how to help her?” Hope rises in his chest. “Can Allura maybe…?”

Chulatt scurries over to inspect the wound on Pidge’s neck… and kisses it. 

Lance chokes on his sobs in despair. While sweet, even a fairy tale true love’s kiss won’t cure her. While he wishes that were the case, he isn’t sure he deserves that title, not when his growing feelings for Pidge feel like he’s using her as a rebound from his own heartbreak. 

They need to finish talking, no matter if it makes his heart more of a mess than it already is. He has to figure this out and he will regret it for the rest of his life if he can’t really speak to Pidge from the heart. He has so many questions for  _ her _ . When and why and  _ how _ . Isn’t he just the goofball?

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks the other mice, though his eyes remain transfixed on Pidge and the slobber Chulatt is leaving on her wound, lingering kisses for far longer than they usually did. The mice love Pidge nearly as much as they love Allura, but what Chulatt was doing now was beyond him. “Did they manage to escape?”

Chulatt turns to him, his tiny body preening confidence, reminding him so much of Pidge. He chatters, as if speaking directly to Lance.

“I’m not Allura,” he whispers. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, Pidge gasps. Lance’s heart skips a beat as she jolts up in his arms, Chulatt escaping to the floor, her bright brown eyes wide open, greedily sucking in air. 

Chulatt squeaks, gesturing to Pidge. Plachu, normally so stoic, gives a half smile and a nod of approval. Platt claps while Chuchule jumps up and down for joy. 

Pidge grasps for him, clutching his arms to hold herself upright with far more strength than she’d had just a few doboshes ago. “Lance… wh-what happened?”

Lance gapes, looking down at Chulatt, adoration in his eyes and those of the other mice. The same feelings he has in his heart - love and relief. 

“I think,” he says with a tired grin, “you were saved from poisoning by a true love’s kiss.” 

Before Pidge can mistake it for him, he nods to the mice. Confusion written all over her face, she lightly touches the wound on her neck, sliding the left over slobber with her fingers. Her face quickly lights up in comprehension. 

“Altean mice create a natural anti-venom,” she says in awe. 

The realization comes over Lance like a crashing wave. Pidge is going to be okay. The mice saved her. 

He hugs her. She yelps, but doesn’t protest after the fact. Her arms reach around his neck to reciprocate. He likes the feel of her clinginess and of her chin resting on his shoulders and the feel of her hair in his face. He wants more of this.

“Pidge, we need to talk,” he starts.

She backs off, nodding curtly. “Yes, we do. After we escape. Otherwise the Red Lion might go on another rampage and I want to make sure we keep goofball Lance and not possessed-by-the-Red-Lion Lance.”

Lance’s brain breaks. “You…  _ want _ goofball me? What about leader-me or diplomat-me?”

Pidge grins in a way Lance is assured she tells the truth and she means it from the heart. “Of course. Being a dork is one of the best things about you.” She looks away, almost ashamed. “I don’t say it as often as I should,” she looks back at him, a soft smile gracing her face. “But you help me relax. I groan, but your goofiness warms my heart most of the time. It reminds me we’re still kids and should have a little fun when we can.”

A real smile develops on his face for the first time since before Ezor and Zethrid crashed their cell, heartbeat slowing while time seems to stand still. “So, you don’t think I’m worthless?”

Pidge’s mouth goes slack, her eyes horrified. “You’re literally the most dangerous person on the team. You adapt to any situation way too well, I’m  _ really _ glad you’re on my side. You saved my life when you shot Sendak even though you were in critical condition and you were  _ feral _ in there when I got hurt.”

‘My’ side. Her side, specifically. Lance knew his team valued him, but to hear it from Pidge heals a hole in his heart he’d never realized was there. 

“I just didn’t want them to hurt you, Pidge,” he says truthfully. “And then they did and--”

“I’m okay now,” she interrupts. “Thanks to our friends and thanks to  _ your _ quick thinking.”

Their faces are ridiculously close. His mouth is open yet he can’t find the words to say. Pidge hasn’t closed hers. His body moves as if on its own, different from the Red Lion’s influence but just as surreal as he leans in closer and closer to Pidge…

“Lance! Pidge!”

Jolted to reality, his head snaps to the voice. Hunk stands at the end of the hallway, Allura and Keith running past, brandishing their  _ bayards _ . Before he can process it, the green and red bayards slide towards him and Pidge, bumping up against his legs. 

“We gotta go,” Keith says curtly. “Lance, lead the way. Keep the team together.”

“Wait,” Lance starts. “Where are you going?”

“Axca helped saved our skin. I’m not leaving her.”

“Axca? As in another of Lotor’s generals?” Pidge asks. “What did we miss?”

Lance deflates. At this point nothing should surprise him. Pidge was right, he easily rolled with the punches and this was yet another wild twist that he’ll run with. He manages a half grin. “Not as much as they did, I think,” he jokes. Pidge smiles wide in clear understanding that he embraces the humor of the situation. 

They still needed to sit down and talk at length about what happened today, he knows as he and Pidge both rise to their feet, bayards in hand. He shares that smile with her, their friendship undoubtedly stronger and basking in their newfound…  _ something _ . It feels good to escape the ship with  _ all _ of his teammates, secure in the knowledge that he has a way forward not just as a Paladin, but also with Pidge. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/). Please leave a comment if you enjoy! I'm anxious to hear what parts you liked!


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